


dear forgiveness

by periphas (earthshaker)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hades (Video Game) Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Resurrection, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthshaker/pseuds/periphas
Summary: Part of Oikawa understands what Hajime is after; the idea of an origin, of apurposeis so terribly mortal, so terriblyhumanfrom someone who is a child of the god of the dead but it stops there. Oikawa is a god and being a god comes with its own mantle, its own sacred dedication. Besides, whatever humanity he does have had been handed over to Hajime forever ago, traded in the fumbling hands of children growing up on the banks of the Styx.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13
Collections: Haggly 2: The Remix





	dear forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovefoolthatsme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovefoolthatsme/gifts).



> remix inspired by this artwork of [iwaizumi as zagreus <3 ](https://twitter.com/lovefoolthatsme/status/1327730286344409088?s=20), warnings for some gameplay spoilers!

Part of Oikawa understands what Hajime is after; the idea of an origin, of a _purpose_ is so terribly mortal, so terribly _human_ from someone who is a child of the god of the dead but it stops there. Oikawa is a god and being a god comes with its own mantle, its own sacred dedication. Besides, whatever humanity he does have had been handed over to Hajime forever ago, traded in the fumbling hands of children growing up on the banks of the Styx. 

Oikawa is in the mortal realm when he feels it happen—the Fates are his sisters after all—a thread cut free from him and linked to Hajime’s, intertwined with his mother’s magic. Oikawa cocks his head to the side, tries to feel out the thread with his own magic, except the endpoint is indeterminable beyond being anchored to Hajime. There’s a brief moment where he weighs duty against curiosity—he has more dead to tend to than usual between the raging war and the endless winter—but Oikawa has always been devoted to the things he sets himself to. Shepherding the dead is thankless work, but he bears it with good graces, reassuring the lost souls that flock to him. Oikawa hears the same two things: death is cruel, death is kind. He is cursed and he is revered. 

Hajime dies. 

Oikawa is tending to a body when it happens, the air eerily still, his mouth filled with the rust of blood, the acidity of ichor. Demigod magic. What Hajime does not know is that Oikawa had sworn an oath to protect Hajime. Half of it was for the sake of dramatics; Hajime may not be a _full_ god, but his immortality is ironclad. The other half of it is because Oikawa had known infinity—endless, meandering work in the fields of the dead—and then he had Hajime; made whole before he even realized there was a void to be filled. To be named. He barely dwells on it before following the thread that ties him to Hajime’s soul, drifting through the Styx, and pulls on it until Hajime returns to his body.

Hajime is alive.

For the first time in his life, Oikawa has gone directly against his mandate; Death must remain impartial.

Death cannot remain impartial where Hajime is concerned, however. Oikawa _keeps_ doing it; pulling Hajime back into his body every time the threads tying them together flickers, three in total. Sometimes Hajime heals them, and Oikawa pulls him back more than three times. If the god of the dead doesn't say anything about it—and Oikawa suspects that some part of his lord _wants_ Iwaizumi to succeed—Oikawa will continue to do at. At this point he is attuned to the chill that precedes Hajime dying, demigod blood in his mouth, the way it shaves Oikawa's own mortality.

Hajime keeps dying, and Oikawa keeps bringing him back until the magic itself is exhausted and he cannot any longer. Hajime is wracked by the curses of the witches. Hajime is flayed with Ushijima's whip. Hajime is burned in lava. Oikawa is immortal and cannot die, but every time Hajime dies, a part of Oikawa dies with him. 

Part of him is still angry with Hajime, truth be told. Yes, Oikawa is rarely home. Yes, hell is a horrible place. Yes, even Elysium. He’d just hoped that Hajime understood then when Oikawa said forever, eons ago, he meant it. That he’s still hanging onto the jagged shards of a promise, of an understanding that they are least had each other to come home to, hurting himself repeatedly on the edges of them. It hurt even more that the news had come from Ushijima—climbing out of the Styx and covered in blood—that Hajime was attempting to break out of hell; worse coming from the sibling he liked least when Oikawa believed that Hajime didn't care enough to tell Oikawa to his face. Kunimi had said something about Asphodel and a hydra but Oikawa couldn't wait that long, a group of mortals had just died at sea, and with one last look in the direction of the Styx, he'd phased back to the surface.

The tug of war between Hajime and duty wins somewhere after the fifth or sixth time Hajime crosses over into Elysium; he’s close enough to the surface that Oikawa can’t resist the pull, leaping hope first.

“ _Tooru,_ ” Hajime gasps, recoiling at this sight of him.

“You’ve looked better,” Oikawa sniffs. His hands ache to reach out, to touch, to wash his bleeding wounds with nectar. 

Hajime _glows_ with the blessings of the gods—a shimmering, impermeable layer of rage, the air around of him crackling with ozone—burning bright through his mortality. In his hands is a spear Oikawa faintly remembers picking up from another great hero, another tragic death. Hajime holds it like it is his birthright, and he appears almost happy seeing Oikawa. 

“Asshole.” The curse drips with affection. “I haven’t seen you since…”

Oikawa knows—he has been on the surface since before Hajime started breaking out of hell. 

“This is no place to talk about that,” Tooru cuts off. “Let us fight.” 

“Tooru, I could never fight y—” 

Oikawa smirks, even as the shades begin to rise out of the ground, drifting away from Hajime. “Not me. Together.”

Part of him still knows how to fight alongside Hajime: nothing could dissolve a bond like theirs. It’s a practiced dance, one born through a century of practice on Hajime’s balcony, the two of them molded into weapons by their own hands. For every shade Oikawa sends into the void, Hajime kills three, surrounded by lightning one moment and a vortex of pure rage the next, spearing through them with uncanny accuracy. 

It is impossible to take his eyes off Hajime, an incandescent song of violence, a blade that sings true, a part of Oikawa anchored there forever. It’s just that Hajime is bleeding _so much_ , red everywhere, Longspears running through Hajime. A chill down Oikawa’s spine. A surge of magic that burns brightly through Oikawa. He whirls around just as Hajime falls to his knees, a hand outstretched towards Oikawa. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Oikawa snarls, the resounding gong accompanying his scythe as he swings it. 

Oikawa reaches out with his magic, _pulls_ , feels the give as something ancient answers the call, recognizing the power of death incarnate and bowing. Hajime gasps, and straightens. His flesh knits over in front of Oikawa's eyes, bleeding less, skin smooth and unmarked in some places. The mortals would— _have_ —immolate for this kind of favor from the gods. 

“It’s your magic,” Hajime admires, staring at the palms of his hands. “I thought it was Mother Night’s.”

Oikawa smiles, pressing his lips together tightly. “It’s been me all along.”

“Tooru, I really am—”

“You won the contest,” Oikawa interrupts, holding out a centaur heart.

Hajime frowns as he takes it, hesitant even as the effects of life force seep it, even more color returning to his complexion. “Tooru,” Hajime murmurs, “I’m s—”

Oikawa phases before Hajime can say anything, finding himself by the ocean. The surface world is more beautiful than hell, he wants to show Hajime the ocean, the roiling surface of his uncle's domain. They could go fishing, if Oikawa steals Matsukawa's boat. For a moment he ignores the call of death, hovering at the cliff's edge. Hajime dies again, and Oikawa cannot pull him back into his body.

Hajime dies again, and Oikawa resolves to help him, even if he is afraid of being abandoned. Even if he is afraid of returning to the void of unfeeling. Maybe he will get some resolution, or even reconciliation. Death is cruel, but shines kindly upon Iwaizumi Hajime. 


End file.
